An Original Plot
by melloncollie00
Summary: Brooke’s dimples appear once again. “Who knows, Lucas Scott, maybe I do.” Brucas. AU.


**Disclaimer:**I don't own One Tree Hill; I wanted to remind you just in case you haven't realized it by now.

**Prologue:** Brooke's dimples appear once again. "Who knows, Lucas Scott, maybe I do." Brucas. AU.

**Author's Note:** I know I'm supposed to continue to my WIPs, but this is an idea I very much enjoyed so I decided to get into action immediately. Hope you'll like it as much as I did. And, yeah, I like reviews hint hint, lol

**An Original Plot**

She catches his gaze all of a sudden, his deep blue eyes staring into her, trying to examine every little detail her petite face includes. The caramel-brown wavy hair, hanging loosely from her bun, sweet cherry lips, shining to invite him for a deep passionate kiss, and those deep-dimples whenever she smiles; if Lucas Scott was as nearly talented as Peyton; the woman sitting just across the table right now would be the main theme of a million-dollar-worth, eccentric and international painting.

Instead, all of Peyton's paintings are about brooding teenagers; her canvas only contains dark colors, and Lucas is known to be good at literature rather than art; so Brooke Davis loses the chance of becoming the modern-Mona-Lisa of 2000s. She, of course, unaware of the opportunity she lost, talks about some fashion week in Milano and how Vivienne Westwood's designs had changed during time.

"She has a good way with colors" Brooke says, while chewing her beef, "Yet I am more a Dolce & Gabbana person rather than a punk-turned-designer, you know what I mean?"

Lucas nods his head, not having a clue about the designs Dolce & Gabbana makes, or how Vivienne Westwood combines the colors to create new clothes. Yet still, every single word this amazing woman says seems like a password to some unknown world, and right now, he wants, no, needs to explore that anonymity.

"So, you seem a bit quiet. You OK?" she asks, raising an eyebrow. Since this is a special occasion, a Valentine's Day party, he needs to be cheerful, compliment her accomplishments, or ask questions to investigate further; instead Lucas just sits there, sucking up every bit of emotion Brooke incenses through the air; not demanding for more, not being satisfied for less.

"Yeah I'm fine." Lucas wants to lie about a pain appearing in his stomach, or a headache to prevent him from a decent chat; but he knows a faked-up-disease will mean a sudden end to this night; and that's all he's afraid of right now. "So I heard, Vivienne Westwood's designs were really dull lately. Yet, she still manages to find her way towards Paris Fashion Sessions."

Brooke smiles to his comment, dimples appear in her cheeks, Lucas can't help but shiver. "So, Lucas, how is it going, your writing?" she asks, trying to get the attention out of her design-mania and Vivienne-Westwood-including-abnormal-fashion-talk. "Any new projects you've been working on?"

"No, actually, I've been going through this writer's block for a while; and I don't know when it's going to end, exactly." Lucas admits. Lucas Scott, the distinguished writer of "An Unkindliness of Ravens" decides not to talk about his many failed attempts to start up a new novel, or the silent ticking of the clock whenever he sits in front of his laptop. "Do you have any original plots for me to write?"

Brooke's dimples appear once again. "Who knows, Lucas Scott, maybe I do."

/

They continue the night in the silent hill near the restaurant, an area covered with oak trees, and although seems horrifyingly quiet at night; includes the scene of a wonderful view of New York if the right place can be found. Luckily, with a stolen berry-wine in his hands, Lucas Scott is too dazzled not to make any mistakes on these hours.

"God, look at this view!" Brooke says, taking a sip from the wine she managed to snitch from that classy restaurant. "This is amazing."

Lucas just stares at Brooke and nods his head, as she passes him the wine. He wonders what the barmaid's reaction will be after a bigwig with his new fake-blonde mistress orders the top-wine in the cellar only to be greeted by some other beverage not as tasty and old as Brooke came to find only some moments ago. A sudden smile appears in his lips, as his tongue devours the taste of the countless amounts of berries being condemned to tons of processes to make something that would accompany them in this wonderful night.

"I've always thought that New York has its own kind of music." Brooke murmurs, leaning on to Lucas more, "You know, a hip-hop song with some trance in it. In Brooklyn, we may also add a little bit of rap and Manhattan has a sound of jazz. But here, there is no music. Nothing. Just silence."

Lucas tries to listen; but Brooke is right, there is no sound. So instead, he smells the night; and his nostrils welcome a sudden sensation of berries, mixed with a pinch of Brooke's shampoo and his latest perfume which he doesn't know the brand of. Maybe Dolce & Gabbana. Who knows?

"God, am I talking too much or what?" Brooke immediately cheers up, passing the wine once more to Lucas. They have been here for only a few moments, but the bottle is nearly empty.

"I have something to tell you but you have to wait until the end of the date." Brooke immediately blurts out, waking Lucas from his reverie of berry-fields and a brunette in her red-Mexican-dress. It is corny, that is for sure, but hidden particles of passion is scattered among that fields.

"What is that?" His curiosity is crystal clear in the tone. "Tell me."

"No" Brooke says confidently, secretly enjoying her new move. "Be patient."

/

Lucas has no idea how many hours they have spent sitting on that hill, the wine has already been digested, the alcohol just started to lose its control over the blood. Brooke's body has been leaning on Lucas's, and he had never felt so alive in such a long time.

They, contrary to procedures, talked little during these hours. Brooke told him about her first arrival at New York, the over-expensive flat she rented in Manhattan and how her house owner was a bitch- literally- and Lucas commented about how house prices were going down these days with the mortgage crisis, so she could save money to buy one. And that was basically all the talk they had. Then Lucas found himself, smelling the night once more, berries being dominated by Brooke's mixture of perfume and shampoo and skin. He wants to touch her bare skin, to examine whether it is as perfect as it smells, but Lucas Scott is shy and he doesn't want to ruin his gentlemen-like manners he managed to protect for so long.

"You can touch me if you want." Brooke says all of a sudden, being aware of Lucas's eyes being focused on her skin longer than usual. She takes his hand, and guides his fingers through her arms and her neck. Then to her face.

It doesn't take long for him to crash his lips into hers, lips entwined, his tongue devouring the taste of her salty mouth, breathless and passionate. Her fingers trail on his hair, and he finds himself caressing Brooke's thighs. Small moans escape her mouth, and the silence of the night is ruined; as in that moment, a very erotic lullaby of touching and kissing makes its debut on Brooke's "New York Songs" list. Brooke leads Lucas to the top as she unbuttons his shirt and Lucas starts biting her neck. It feels like he is being guided by some extra-ordinary power made up of all the desire and the arousal he managed to suppress for so long, and his brain has already surrendered to this fact. So he kisses her, the cool wind blowing over them to cool down all the fire, the sticks and twigs prickling their skin for a startling effect, yet nothing, even the fact that they are doing this outdoors cannot stop Lucas from what he is doing. He is on top of Brooke Davis, her leg on his waist, his left hand cuddling her thing, her right hand trailing down on his back, his eyes watching, memorizing, everything about the moment. He secretly wishes his ears had the intensity and the technology of a camera, so that he would take a snapshot of all the details that make up Brooke from the curvature of her lips, to the moans escaping her mouth; yet Lucas has normal, bodily, human eyes.

"Come on" Brooke whispers softly, her breath brushing through his skin.

"I don't have…protection. I don't have a condom." Lucas stutters, as the bitter reality hits him. When he was getting ready for this date, unaware of the possible outcomes, Lucas Scott hadn't even thought about sex let alone bringing a Trojan.

"I'm on the pills." Brooke assures, and as Lucas prepares to enter her, he sees a sudden twist of guilt and curiosity in his eyes. What they do right now, in their condition, means sin, and Brooke is probably aware.

"Don't worry, Brooke. Don't." Lucas says, his blue eyes, trying to send every bit of emotion he feels to hers in a transcendental way. He has tried it so many times before, yet Lucas doesn't remember a day when his looks were that intense.

"Lucas" she mumbles with a sullen smile as he enters her. Their lips lock as they move in union, and Brooke's hoarse groans echo in Lucas's palate. He thrusts deeper and deeper into her, and as gradually they reach to orgasm (first Brooke and after her erotic reactions, Lucas), the sensibility and rationality decide to turn back from whatever place they have been visiting to Lucas and Brooke's senses.

/

"I don't do that." Brooke mumbles. They have sat on the chilling ground for nearly an hour, half-naked, watching the night of New York saying goodbye moment by moment. "I mean, I had some flings in the college but…this…"

Lucas tracks all his relationships back down, and he can't even find one one-night-stand, even after a very-drunk party in high school, or that time he experienced with marijuana in Matthias's residence in Amsterdam. Still though, it feels so right. The bitter taste in his mouth, the thoughtfulness, everything is filled up with Brooke right now and he feels complete.

"How long have you been married to your wife?" Brooke asks, "What was her name again?"

"Peyton" Lucas mumbles. "Peyton Sawyer." as he immediately remembers the fight they've had over surnames four years ago. "It is going to be four years in May.""Oh" is the only comment Brooke comes up with. Suddenly, the ring on Lucas's finger shines, that golden band that seemed to be invisible for all the night appears magically.

"You? Are you planning to get married to Chase?" Lucas asks, and wonders why the name of Chase Adams is stuck in his brain. Maybe because he was so humorous in that Valentine's party. Maybe because he is with Brooke Davis.

"Chase wants it, but I don't know. I'm not sure." Brooke says, and of course, that night with Lucas doesn't contribute to her intentions with Chase.

"Don't rush." Lucas gives an advice. "I mean, we've rushed everything with Peyton and now we're having serious problems. Marriage counselors, fights, splitting up rooms…its no good." The problems with Peyton has started a long time ago, the arguments turned to quarrels, the quarrels evolved into fights- and as two mature adults, they went to counseling only to be lectured about relationship balances and mutual understanding crap for hours and paying tons of dollars just for listening to that shit. Nathan, his step-brother tried to talk to him, as his high-school sweetheart Haley as a close friend of Peyton's, but Lucas never mentioned anything about that. Until now.

"I see." Brooke says. "So what brings you here, to the party, wouldn't it be better if you spent the night alone?"

Brooke's question hurts him. Why is she being that helpful? Why isn't she jealous?

"Mrs. Garrison advised us to cheer our marriage, so Peyton managed this. And that game…spiced it."

The party they all attended earlier in the night; by monotonous lovers Brooke Davis and Chase Adams, and the problematic spouses Peyton Sawyer and Lucas Scott, included a special game for all the couples. The keys of their cars were put into a jar; and the one who picked a key that belonged to someone else got to spend an evening date with him. Peyton, was matched with a 46-year-old-woman named Lisa, married to her 5th husband, and Lucas, well, his keys for the Lexus has been picked by Brooke Davis.

"Don't worry" Brooke again cheers up only to surprise Lucas, "you'll be better off. Just buy her an evening gown from Vivienne Westwood and take her to a romantic dinner. I'm sure all the old feelings will resurface again."

Lucas stays silent.

/

The dawn arrives with concrete coldness, a warm breeze and Brooke's ultra-cheerful conversation. Lucas, on the other hand, thinks about her. Will it be the end? Will he return home back to an angry Peyton who'll break up another fight? Will Brooke accept Chase's proposal? What will their future be? In two years, will they be complete strangers, walking past each other in the street, and wondering why the face feels so familiar?

"Come on, Broody. Cheer up, will you?" Brooke plays with him. "I don't want to say goodbye to a puppy face."

Lucas stands up and wipes the sticks from his trousers, it seems like it is the only thing he could control in his life.

"It was nice being with you." Brooke smiles and hugs him. "I had a great time."

Lucas wants a phone number, and address, an e-mail, something that'll connect them in the future; but he is too hesitant to ask. "Yeah, me too."

Brooke waves him goodbye, and suddenly, Lucas remembers one thing.

"Hey, what was that thing you were going to tell me at the end of the date?"

She breaks into laughter, and comes nearer.

"Vivienne Westwood has never been a dull designer. But I loved how you tried to chat. You're a one-special-man Lucas Scott. You'll sort it with your wife and that writer's block of yours will be completely bullshit."

As Brooke leaves him in the early day, in the middle of the hill waking up with morning breeze, Lucas Scott does not know whether he will see Brooke Davis again, if he is going to split up from Peyton Sawyer or not, but he knows that he has found a plot for his new novel.

A very original plot.


End file.
